


Here comes that rhythm again

by ariadnes_string



Category: The Eagle (2011), The Eagle (2011) RPF
Genre: Gen, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-12
Updated: 2011-03-12
Packaged: 2017-10-16 21:31:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/169555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariadnes_string/pseuds/ariadnes_string
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Work it, baby.  Oh, yeah,” Chan growled.  Or maybe not.  Maybe that’s just what Anna would have said, if she’d been in his place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here comes that rhythm again

**Author's Note:**

> a/n: Written for this prompt at the_eagle_kink meme: On a slow day on set Channing teaches Jamie how to strip. Originally posted anonymously over there.  
> a/n: I didn't do much research for this--just watched CT's stripper video on Youtube, and read an article that claimed that everyone called him "Chan."  
> a/n: this is a purely fictional story about real people--no truth claimed, no profit made and no offense meant.  
> a/n: title from the Talking Heads song "Stay Hungry."

Anna did this thing sometimes where she tried to imagine what dogs people would be if they were dogs. Maybe not the best way to go about judging character, but it was fun, and at least it gave her a good code for when she IM’d her friend Allie about people on the set.

Chan was easy: he was a Lab. Big and smooth-muscled, but friendly and kind of wiggly in a way that made you think he didn’t quite know his own strength. Jamie was a little harder, but she and Allie finally decided he was like a Fox Terrier—smart and sharp and maybe a little mischievous. Kind of like the dog in _Tintin_ , which was funny when you thought about it.

It had been pissing rain on and off all day, and the two stars had been sent off to get warm until the heavens cleared enough for them to submerge themselves into freezing water again. Not all the way back to the trailers—just to where some makeshift catering—pretty much just tea and biscuits—had been laid out in an old school. Anna had driven them over, then gone off to pick up some other things for Kevin. Now she was supposed to fetch them back.

The food was in the cafeteria, one of those big rooms schools sometimes had, with a wall that was half windows running down one side. So Anna could see the two men as she approached. Jamie was leaning against the long provision table, hunched over a cup of tea, a silvery space blanket still hanging off his shoulders, a cap pulled over his ears, and the hot water bottle Chan had given him earlier still clutched against his chest. He looked about as pissed off and miserable as Anna had ever seen him. Dickensian, almost, though maybe she wouldn’t have thought that before Allie made her watch _Nicholas Nickleby_ last week.

Chan still had a hat on too, but he was down to baggy sweats, otherwise, and was shifting from foot to foot, bouncing around like a boxer warming up—still trying to shake the river’s chill, she supposed.

Clearly, some of Jamie’s pissed-off-ness had to do with Chan bopping around like—well, like an overgrown chocolate lab—and as Anna approached, Jamie took a biscuit and pinged it off Chan’s forehead, giving him a scowl for good measure.

Chan rubbed his head, but rather than settling down, he seemed to take it as a challenge. He got right up in Jamie’s space and-- _oh, shit_ \--did an exaggerated, old fashioned bump-and-grind—chest wide, shoulders back, hips laying out a lewd figure eight.

Anna stopped dead in her tracks, and then hugged the far wall, hoping the shadowy hallway would hide her for a minute. Because this? This she wanted to see.

Jamie looked heavenward, his face communicating _why, Lord, why? why did you saddle me with this crazy American?_ better than any words. But Chan just laughed—so loudly and delightedly Anna could hear him in the hallway. He smirked, turned around—pretty sinuously for a big guy—and enthusiastically wiggled his butt in Jamie’s general direction.

Jamie dropped his face in his hands, but Anna didn’t, because, heck, it was a pretty nice butt. And even though Chan was clearly taking the piss, there was still something, well, just plain hot about the fine curve of his arse sliding under the cotton, the fluid roll of his hips.

Anna moved her hand to her waistband and cursed silently when she only found the set walkie-talkie there. She must have left her phone in the van, and damn did she want pictures of this. Not that she would put it up on Youtube or anything, she wasn’t like that. But she was pretty sure that Allie would be demanding visual evidence before she believed the story Anna was going to be telling her.

Chan was now accompanying himself with some raucous, stripper-type song, head thrown back and kind of grooving. He’d finished displaying his backside and had turned back around; he was right up close to Jamie again, slowly unzipping his oversized grey hoodie, running his hand over his t-shirt clad chest and making the most ridiculous, come-hither face at his co-star she’d ever seen—all pursed lips and squinty eyes.

Maybe she’d been wrong about which one of them was the mischievous one.

Jamie, meanwhile, had lost it, was giggling so hard the tea started sloshing out of his cup and onto the floor. One final, faux-seductive wink and Chan had joined him, hands on his knees, almost doubled over with laughter.

Show’s over, Anna thought; she should probably go in now. But, just as she got ready to make her presence known, she realized Chan wasn’t done yet. He was tugging at Jamie, gesturing at the space in front of the table.

“Go on now,” she imagined him saying. “Your turn now--let’s see what you’ve got.”

And okay, if that was happening, Anna was staying put for the duration.

Jamie resisted, smacking at Chan’s hands. But Chan changed tactics, made some grade-A puppy dog eyes at him, and he relented.

He stepped away from Chan, looking kind of awkward and self-conscious, and twitched his hips diffidently.

But Chan wasn’t having it. “Woo-hoo,” he called, or something encouraging to that effect. He stuck two fingers in his mouth and wolf-whistled.

And now Jamie smiled at him—a vulpine, I’m-calling-your-bluff smile--and shrugged the space blanket off his shoulders. Then he twirled it over his head with surprising dexterity, moving his hips in the other direction, and let it loose so that it floated between them and settled right over Chan’s head.

Chan crowed happily, but Anna just stared. Because damn if Allie wasn’t right: Jamie was gorgeous in a way that Anna hadn’t really noticed before. Now that the blanket was gone, she could see that he was wearing a blue henley—tight enough to show every line of his taut, narrow torso—and a pair of sweats that were a little too big for him, were hanging so low on his hips that she could glimpse a tantalizing sliver of pale skin. Plus, she had a feeling that if he kept on rocking his hips the way he was doing, the sweats weren’t going to stay up for long.

When Chan emerged from under the blanket, he was smiling open-mouthed. And he looked a little flushed, too, Anna thought. Probably the exertion. Certainly not because he was enjoying the show the same way Anna was enjoying it.

“Work it, baby. Oh, yeah,” Chan growled. Or maybe not. Maybe that’s just what Anna would have said, if she’d been in his place.

Because Chan was frowning, just a little, and now that she had her breath back, Anna could see why. Jamie wasn’t actually working it—not the way Chan had. Chan was a little heavy on his feet, sure, and a bit of an lummox-y goofball, but he’d sold it, made it look like it could be sex if you turned it up a notch or two, the way strip acts are supposed to look.

Whereas Jamie was much lighter on his feet, way more graceful. Too graceful almost. On him, the bump-and-grind looked more like dancing, less like almost-fucking.

And trust Chan to be a perfectionist about it—to want Jamie to do the stripper thing right if he was going to do it at all. He started gesturing with his hands, like he was urging Jamie to get heavier, dirtier, more down low.

Jamie just looked at him like he was a lunatic, and slowed to a halt. “Fuck off,” he said, “We’re not all former professionals, you know?” Or something like that. He seemed ticked off by the coaching, at any rate.

But Chan just smiled placatingly at him, got up, and moved behind him. He put his big hands on Jamie’s waist, urging him lower. And Anna must have moved closer herself without knowing it, because she could hear Chan humming his stripper song in Jamie’s ear, swaying him back and forth to the beat.

Jamie made an annoyed face, but complied, moving his hips as Chan directed. It didn’t seem to be enough, though, and as Anna watched, Chan got closer, bent his knees so that he could guide the action with his body, rather than his hands, slotted himself flush against Jamie’s legs, his arse.

They moved like that for a bit, finding a rhythm without much difficulty. And, oh, oh wow, if that wasn’t one of the hottest things she’d ever seen. Anna could feel her blood pulsing to the surface of her skin in tiny wavelets, her nipples harden against her shirt.

Chan dropped his face into the curve of Jamie’s neck, and Jamie tilted his head back, all traces of annoyance gone from his face. They seemed lost in something, something that had Anna holding her breath, and who knows how long they would have gone on like that if her walkie-talkie hadn’t chosen that moment to erupt into crackling life.

“Christ, Anna,” said a staticky voice on the other end, “where are you? We need those boys back here ASAP.”

“Uh,” she said, clearing her throat and trying to shake all inappropriate thoughts from her head. “On my way, boss—be there in ten.”

She went into the cafeteria, projecting an air of “I just got here” as hard as she could. There was about three feet of distance between Chan and Jamie now, and Jamie was very busy hitching up his sweats and trying to tie them tighter.

“Hi,” she said, and they both looked at her, all pretend innocence, for all the world like dogs that had been caught digging in the wrong part of the garden. She ignored it. “Let’s go—sounds like they wanted you back there yesterday.”

 

 _end_


End file.
